Long Crumb Poems
Long Crumb Poems. Below are the most popular long Crumb by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Crumb poems by poem length and keyword.
I like all kinds of cheese,
it really does not matter what kind;
oh, don't forget the Camembert please,
and that stinky Blue, deeply lined.
Would not mind some Brie,
a big hunk, with crackers for my afternoon tea;
I will not leave a crumb I guarantee.
Did I tell you I love Swiss?
it really gives me awesome bliss;
like- I fall into an abyss.
I could munch seriously strong cheddar with ease,
oh yes, with cheese I am entwined;
bring me cheese because to MY heart it is the key.
and for sure you will get a big kiss.
_____________________________
November 11, 2018
Poetry/Rhyme/Seriously, I Love Cheese
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1084-421-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
I love the egg custards, the apricot Danish,
And the warmed up apple dumpling.
And I especially love the creamy rolls,
Filled with that special something.
Do you like your apple crumble or,
Is your favourite coconut cream?
Is it the cherry crumb biscuit, lemon meringue,
Or a lemon supreme?
If you love indulging on all sorts of muffins,
The blueberry, carrot or bran,
And then dining on all the beautiful cakes,
If your favourite’s the Spanish flan.
Then I believe we should go on a date,
To the biggest bakery we can find.
We can have the greatest restaurant meal,
Leaving meat and three veg behind.
Getting Cheeky (Beauty and the Beast)
A monster, a beast, all hairy; what a Brute.
Another side, over time, kind of Cute.
She kisses beast on the cheek;
And it’s only been a week.
Intent to harm, has become a pursuit.
A Sleeping Beauty Does Lie (Sleeping Beauty)
A hole, that’s dug, will prepare a great fall.
An apple core, not yet found, before sprawl.
A sleeping beauty does lie.
The worm, in fruit, from HIS thigh.
The jealous witch saw the future and all.
The Tasty Crumb (The Gingerbread Man)
The tasty crumb of a man on the street.
Scant left of him but for sure what a treat.
A mangy dog got to eat
A hot and leisurely cheat.
The bum, from oven, not good, nor’n athlete.
Harem Theorem (Aladdin)
Says I, “This magic in lamp, will be Al’s.
I’ll control Genie and wish for them gals.”
Conjured and asked of his whim.
One wish was granted to him.
All forty beauts, but they wish to be pals.
The Squealing Trio (The Three Little Pigs)
The squealing trio pursued by a howl.
The porkers’ noise drew a crowd and a growl.
The wolf was very greedy.
The village folk were seedy.
The thrum of roast and bacon; not one scowl.
A sad early death will be mine
if, my dreams do not twine.
No reason to rise up from my soft bed.
Why is your life so unyielding? My MUSE, just said.
Life reacts. You have poems to design!
But, I whisper to my heartless life,
____ I am dreaming of words divine,
. . . . of family I did love before;
in dreams I open the door;
and ruthless pain and sweet memories come!
I am past weeping, yet I gather every crumb.
Then, inside my head words twirl and pour!
Oh, I must FACE IT and rise,
____ for my written words to soar.
_________________________
August 9, 2019
Poetry/Rhyme/My Dreams Must Twine
Copyright Protected, ID 11720063-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest COLLABORATION
sponsored by Line Gauthier
Second Place
If tears don't run salty into the bowl of lentils of life, you don't know the seasoning of pain,
It's just a breeze, a transient wind over your infinite fields of indifference.
When you weep, tasting of all things, satiated with the world's profound murmur,
You conceal an unknown yearning in your sob, and the salt crystallizes in the chambers of your heart.
A fog settles on empty tables, laden with silences and sighs,
An autumn uncontained in dishes, woven into the silvery sleep of drawers.
Each bread crumb—a solstice between the full day and the night that comes,
In every crack of dawn and dusk lives the undigested, jumping love.
If you've never swallowed the moonlight mixed in the porcelain chalice of fate,
You have not felt how heavens descend, trickling through veins the eternal flow.
A scent of wax burning bloody in candles, once vivid now drained,
Is that flame under which your dreams fry and the healing aches like an eternal cut.
If you’ve never rocked hope in the quarter of the night, when hunger cuts your breath,
You'll never understand how every goal of deceit sways in throngs under the dome of eternity.
And you may see in the falling star, a shimmering silver platter flung across the sky,
Not a token of luck, but a scorched piece of the universe refusing to be swallowed without a fight.
If you've never eaten with tears in your eyes, you'll never know what life is...
The one that cuts and runs, and settles like a canvas of cold upon the ground of longing.
Poems are prepared for you in frost and heat, to sip stoically, with the natural taste of torment,
And you thirst, not for water, but for the essence that rises from the chasm of crying, wildly enchanted.
He was a one-of-a kind little pup
Mostly white, with caramel patches.
His tail curled up, like an Akita
With big paws for dangerous scratches.
He was no pure breed, but he was ours
His name was Charlie, or "Charlie Bar"
Who was sweet to family, but not all others.
He grew to a fairly plump eighty pounds
And loved to wrestle under the covers.
He was erratic and awkward, but he was ours.
At the sound of a doorbell, real or TV
He would launch into panic mode.
Barking and charging toward the door
To defend the family and our abode.
He wasn't the smartest, but he was ours.
Food was Charlie's chief motivation
Never deterred from a morsel or crumb.
He ate at a frenzied, gulping rate
And drank 'til his tongue went numb.
He was never graceful, but he was ours.
He followed my wife wherever she went
No room was off limits, no treat rejected.
He reacted to everything that moved
But my wife felt safe and protected.
He was "a baby" for sure, but he was ours.
He felt challenged by two tiny dogs next door
And attacked the fence with great zeal.
Pretending to be our home's great defender
But we knew his attacks weren't real.
He was a menace we know, but he was ours.
He loved walks and new toys would thrill him
And hangers under doors he attacked!
Timely meals and snacks were important
And no attention or affection he lacked.
He was a wuss, but he was ours.
Thank you, Charlie, for the years in our family
For the laughter you gave and your loyalty too.
I wish there were more, but I cherish the times
You enriched our lives and you saw us through.
For profound happiness, thank God he was ours.
Bull activist,
stupid extremist,
proselyte of the kettle,
talk of nonsense...
Dry caca taster,
vinegar wine taster
Junkie food bib,
hero of nonsense...
Rotten ego massager,
pimp and donkey sycophant,
mongrel among the donkeys...
It's pathetic, paregoric and illiterate,
you're a goofy politician,
fumbling fuse,
fuze of confused...
You're an upturned splinter,
a wild bombshell,
a pieces of smelly,
a moldy sponge cake,
brainless crumb,
disturbed flour,
a bucephalus steak...
A serious candidate for exile,
exile beyond hell,
because neither the devil wants you around!
If you know someone like that,
unfortunately my friend,
I only despise you...!
Chef Bartholomew Pistachio strides in with flair,
tail flicking like a whisk in the air.
He’s ready to judge, to taste, to shout~
but one glance tells him
everything’s a disaster, straight out!
“MY STARS AND ACORNS!” he cries,
voice echoing with tragic grandeur.
“This is not a kitchen~
this is a CRIME SCENE.
Biscotti, the sous chef, stands frozen stiff,
paws dusted white like a guilty snowdrift.
The mixer lies toppled across the floor,
still spinning slowly, like it wants to do more.
The cake pan sits empty, licked shiny and clean~
not a crumb, not a smear, not a trace to be seen.
The chef de parties hides behind ceramic pots,
pretending he’s busy (but he’s absolutely not).
The kitchen assistant tiptoes away,
hoping Chef won’t notice the mess on display.
And the prep cooks—oh heavens—covered in flour,
look like ghostly squirrels who’ve lost all power.
Chef Pistachio gasps, “WHAT HAPPENED HERE?”
Biscotti squeaks softly, “Chef, it… wasn’t clear…
the mixer… the batter… the bowl… it… it~
well, things got manical for just a bit.”
Chef sighs, tail drooping, whisking the air:
“Next time, team, let’s cook—not cause despair.”
But even he smirks at the flour-storm scene,
because kitchen chaos is practically routine.
they slipped with the lobotomy
red-hot poker in the eye
electrocution grilled her mind
bonfire of insanity
a straight jacket squeezed the last drop of lucidity
but she would not see the light of the day
leeches drank happily in search of blood
swollen and fed up they spilled their prey on her skin
her sugar addiction succumbed to insulin coma
almost ate up the last crumb of resolve
the final straw came when they exorcised her
and satanic verses stirred devilish crosses
to the tune of hymns psalms and insurrection
of flesh body soul and lost Self
she borrowed a lighter and burnt a candle
immolated demons and ghosts of the past
saw luminescence and freedom
set arson to hellish oppression
burnt down the asylum
and decided to be her own crazy warden
25th March 2021
A Meaningful Poem Contest
Sponsor Constance La France
in a food processer
combine
16 jumbo shrimp
1/2 cup of cilantro
1/2 cup of dehydrated onion
1/2 cup of dehydrated garlic
3/4 cup of lemon juice
1/4 cup of lemon zest
3/4 cup of coconut oil
3 T cayeene pepper
5 T minced gingerroot
1/4 cup of parsley
3 T seaseme seeds
1/2 cup of shredded coconut
3 T spicerum
mix to create a smooth paste. place in a bowl and cover
and refrigerate....
six chicken breast, make a pocket into the breast and fill with shrimp mixture
use a standard season flour and egg wash and bread crumb process for breading. flour the chicken, place in egg wash, cover with bread crumbs and fry in oil, until golden, remove and place in a baking pan, place chicken in a preheated 350 degree oven, and bake until done.
for veggies
we're going to due a Swuit-fah- Sweet
1 cup of julienne zucchini
1 cup of julienne squash
1 cup of julienne cabbage (purple)
1 cup of sliced onions
3 T crushed garlic
1 cup of sweet yellow pepper
1/2 almonds (sliced)
3/4 cup of sliced ham
.............marinade................
1/4 cup of brown sugar
3 T fish stock
5 T sesame seed oil
5 T olive oil
1/4 cup sherry
3 T red pepper flakes
combine and cover veggies, in a baking pan, cover with foil, and bake for about 12 minutes
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THE TALUS SHALL BE LOVED
PEOPLE SHALL CELEBRATE THE ACCOMPLISHMENTS OF
HIM WHO POSSESS THE TALUS
THEY SHALL SPEAK OF HIM AS CHAMPION
HIS WORKS SHALL MAKE OTHERS ENVY
THEY SHALL RANK THEM BENEATH HIM MIGHT THEY EARN
RESPECT THROUGH GOOD WORKS THEN MIGHT THEY
CHALLENGE HIM TO WREST AWAY THE TALUS